


Caretakers

by Alixtii



Series: Annunciation [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexuality, Character of Color, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Protagonist, First Time, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixtii/pseuds/Alixtii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reinette finds herself in 21st-century London taking care of the broken wife and unborn child of the two Time Lords who changed her life forever, and she can't do it without help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caretakers

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline/Spoilers:** Three months after "Last of the Time Lords" and some indefinite period after "Invasion of the Bane."  In Reinette's personal timeline, six months after "The Girl in the Fireplace." Spoilers up to "Last of the Time Lords" and "Invasion of the Bane."

>   
> 
> 
> "Supposed to happen? What does that mean? It happened, child, and I would not have it any other way."
> 
>   
> 
> 
>                                                                     -- Reinette Poisson to Rose Tyler
> 
>   
> 

"You'll close up the shop, Miss Fish?" Henry asked.

Reinette Fish--once Jeane-Antoinette Poisson, Marquise de Pompadour--simply nodded.

She stayed in the shop for another hour before locking the doors and beginning to count the till, but few customers came in: just Mrs. Miller, who never bought anything anyway, and Mr. Mott, about to begin his nighttime shift at the newspaper stand. Eventually, she turned off the lights, exited the shop, locked the door behind her, and began the journey home.

The Underground ride was uneventful, and ten minutes later she exited the station, turning off her iPod and cutting off Trisha Underwood just in the middle of some lyric about celebrating with a bottle of wine. God. She hadn't had a glass of wine since she traveled to this time period.

Reinette opened the door to the flat to mostly darkness; a soft light flooded out of the bedroom. Lucy was still up, then. She made her way across the flat through the darkness to the bedroom.

Lucy was waiting for her, dressed in silky lingerie. Reinette had to admit that Lucy looked alluring in the sexy outfit; there was no denying that the Widow Saxon (if she was a widow, and that was what worried Reinette) was an attractive woman, and the lingerie accentuated that beauty, and if anything Reinette's pregnancy had only increased her sex drive, more so even than had been the case when she had borne her human daughter. (What weird and wonderful alien hormones were now flowing through her system? Not even the Doctor's knowledge held the answer.) Still, there was a part of Reinette which cringed as Lucy came running towards her, pulling her into a hug and kiss. "Easy, Luce," she said, pulling the other woman off of her.

Reinette held genuine affection for Lucy; after all, there were some ways in which her part in things had not been very different than Reinette's. Lucy, psychologically broken after her year aboard the _Valiant_, needed someone to look after her, and Reinette did not resent the duty. After all, she had devoted her life to seeing that the needs of others were met.

But still, she sometimes wished that Lucy were not so . . . clingy. Needy.

Reinette unpinned her hair and removed her jacket, then gave in to the inevitable as she brought Lucy back in for another kiss and gave herself up to their lovemaking.

. . .

She woke up in the middle of the night when the baby kicked.

She slipped out of bed, then dressed quietly so as not to wake Lucy before leaving the flat and returning to the nighttime street. She brought her iPod with her, hoping Trisha's vocals, so foreign to anything she had ever heard in France, might soothe her, take her mind off her situation. No such luck. She walked up and down the street, trying to sort out her thoughts.

She could feel her son's mind already, telepathically reaching out for his mother.

What should she do? Would she seek out the Doctor? It would be much easier to do so in this time and place than it had been in France; he was fond of it, and already she had seen signs of his handiwork around London.

Or should she keep this secret from him? Perhaps she should escape to some other time or place--she had checked the fireplace in Versailles, and it was still operational, she would just need to redirect the signal again--where she could raise her son in relative peace, mostly unworried about invasions of Daleks or Cybermen. 21st-century Earth was when it all changed, not a suitable place or time to raise a young Time Lord.

She had known fear when the clockwork men had come for her. She had not known despair until after they had been defeated, when the Doctor had left promising to return and didn't. But she had persevered through both experiences, relying on her own inner strength when the Doctor failed to come through for her. She could do so again, she told herself, willing herself to believe it.

But the simple truth was that this was not something she could do on her own; she needed someone to turn to for help, for advice. Lucy was worse than useless in that regard, and compromised besides, unable to be fully trusted.

No, the choice of whom to turn to was clear.

. . .

Reinette took a deep breath before pressing the doorbell of the house at 13 Bannerman Road. She did so, and a moment later the door was opened by none other than Sarah Jane Smith herself.

It was strange to see this woman appear before her who previously Reinette had seen only in the Doctor's memories. Reinette knew so much about this woman, so many intimate details, and yet Sarah Jane just stared at Reinette expectantly with no knowledge of who she was.

"My name is Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson," Reinette introduced herself.

A teenaged boy appeared behind Smith. "Like Madame de Pompadour?" he asked.

"Yes," Reinette answered with a forced smile, "like Madame de Pompadour."

"Well, please, Ms. Poisson, please come in," Smith answered. "What can I do for you?" She gestured for Reinette to have a seat.

"I'm here about a mutual friend," Reinette told her. "The Doctor."

Sarah Jane's expression didn't change. "How do you know the Doctor?"

Reinette glanced down at her enlarged abdomen. "He's the father of my child."

She watched the shocked expression on Sarah Jane Smith's face with some satisfaction.

"You're claiming that. . . ." Sarah Jane broke off. "How?"

"Oh, the usual way, Miss Smith," Reinette answered, not able to resist a playful smile. "He's not that alien, you know."

This rendered Sarah Jane speechless for a good half a minute. "Does he know?" she asked at last.

"No," Reinette answered. "And I don't want him to find out. Not yet, anyway. And not UNIT or Torchwood either."

"Well, naturally," Sarah Jane said, as if Reinette were mad for even bringing them up as a possibility.

. . .

Sarah Jane watched the woman with the name of Madame de Pompadour carefully. "If you could excuse me, I need to check on something," she said quickly, then slipped upstairs. "Mr. Smith, I need you," she announced as she entered the attic.

Mr. Smith burst from his wall with the usual fanfare. "How may I help you, Sarah Jane?" he asked.

"There's a pregnant woman in my living room," Sarah informed him. "I need to know what species her child is."

There was a moment's whirring sound, then Mr. Smith answered, "She is bearing a human/Time-Lord hybrid." He paused, then added, "I note she also has elevated artron levels most likely indicative of travel through the temporal Vortex, Sarah Jane."

Sarah Jane collapsed against the wall. Was it true, then? "Does Torchwood still have the Doctor's DNA on file?" she asked. She knew that Jack had returned the hand to the Doctor, but they wouldn't have been Torchwood if they didn't keep a few cells for themselves.

"Yes. Would you like me to cross-reference it against the fetus downstairs?"

"Please."

"Working." There was a moment's pause, then, "It is a positive match."

Sarah Jane slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. The room wasn't spinning, but she almost felt like it should be.

. . .

It was a few minutes before Sarah Jane forced herself to stand up, take a deep breath, and descend back downstairs. The woman's story was true; she was bearing the Doctor's child. Which meant--well, it meant so many things she had thought were one way weren't, but she forced herself not to think of those things now. Her course of action was simple: there was no way she could refuse help to this woman.

Luke had already provided Ms. Poisson with a cup of tea in Sarah Jane's absence, and set out some biscuits. Two more cups of tea sat on the coffee table; Sarah Jane helped herself to one of them. "I know a doctor who can help you," she said, trying to keep her voice warm and comforting. "She works for UNIT, but she can be very discreet; she's traveled with the Doctor herself. Martha Jones."

The notion of another of the Doctor's companions seemed to trigger a frown on Poisson's face. "Do you know what happened to Rose Tyler and Mickey Smith?" she asked.

Sarah Jane sat down across from Poisson. "Have you heard of the Battle of Canary Wharf?" she asked, and at Poisson's nod, began to tell her as much as she knew of the tragic tale.

She paused, examining this woman who seemed to have such intimate knowledge--she winced as her mind went places with the phrase she didn't originally intend--of the Doctor. "But what about your story, Ms. Poisson? How did you meet the Doctor?"

Poisson smiled. "It was France in the late eighteenth century, and I was just a little girl."

It was Luke who interjected, "You mean you really are Madame de Pompadour?"

Poisson's smile grew slightly broader, amused. "_Oui_."

Sarah Jane only nodded. "Please go on, then, my lady."

Poisson leaned back, and her voice turned wistful. "I was seven years old when I first saw my lonely angel in the fireplace," she told Sarah Jane. "He came out of it and conquered the monster under my bed. It was like a dream; indeed, I had been sure it was a dream until I saw him again."

"Monster?" Sarah Jane prompted.

"A clockwork android from the 51st century in search of my brain," Poisson answered.

"Naturally."

"I saw the Doctor from time to time again over the next thirty years, although there would be many years in between visits. And each time--well, I don't have to explain to you the magic of his presence, Miss Smith. Surely you can understand that I fell in love."

"Of course," Sarah Jane agreed, keeping on her best poker face.

. . .

"You're really Madame de Pompadour?" Maria asked when she came over. "That's brilliant!"

Poisson just laughed and nodded, Sarah Jane noted.

"But what are you doing here?" Maria asked. "Now, I mean. Shouldn't you be in the eighteenth century?"

"I have to admit I wondered that myself," Sarah Jane interjected. "It's not like the Doctor to steal away a historical figure without putting her back when he's done with her."

"No," she agreed. "It's not. Do you know what a Paradox device is?"

. . .

"You probably don't know who I am, Dr. Jones, but--"

"Sarah Jane Smith," Martha cut her off. "Your UNIT file is quite the read, Miss Smith." Even so, Martha had to admit to some small surprise that Sarah Jane Smith apparently had her private residence outfitted with vidphone equipment--the call was reading as coming from her home, not a UNIT or Torchwood terminal

Sarah Jane smiled. "Please, call me Sarah Jane."

Martha found herself returning the smile, instantly liking the woman. "And I'm Martha."

"Well, Martha, I need to ask your help with a situation I've come across which requires your specific skills and knowledge."

"Of course. What type of situation?"

"I'm afraid that's something that must wait until we can speak in person."

. . .

"I need a doctor," said Sarah Jane. "No, more than that: I need the only doctor in London with any knowledge of Time Lord physiology. The Doctor has a child, Martha. An unborn child."

Sarah Jane was pleased to see Martha Jones' reaction had been no less dramatic than her own had been.

. . .

Martha watched the images on Mr. Smith's screen as she passed the alien artifact over Reinette's bared abdomen. "There," she said at last. "A healthy Time Lord boy. I think."

"Good," she said, even though Martha had only confirmed what she already believed to be true from her telepathic contact with her son. A second opinion was always a good thing.

There was a moment of silence, as the significance of the comment sunk in.

"What was it like," Martha asked finally, "to be with the Doctor. I mean, to _be with _the Doctor?"

"Sex is sex," Reinette answered, "and men are men, Time Lord or no. There are only so many positions, so many possibilities. And yet--there was something to that encounter that words will never be able to describe." She paused, and looked at Martha, a penetrating gaze that Martha thought only the Doctor had been capable of, and Martha knew that Reinette, even as a mere human, could see through her disguises. "Would you like me to show you, Dr. Jones?"

Martha's voice was the barest of whispers. "Yes. Please."

Reinette reached out, pulled Martha to her, and proceded to do so


End file.
